


Survival in the City

by space_goose



Series: The Citadel of Dystopia [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Citadel of Ricks, Enemies to Friends, Eye Trauma, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Death, No Incest, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Police Brutality, Protective Rick, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tales of the Citadel, The Ricklantis Mixup, ill add tags as i go, original Mortys - Freeform, original Ricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-25 03:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12521524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_goose/pseuds/space_goose
Summary: President Morty took everything from the Citadel's civilians. The ones who can't survive on the surface are forced to live underground, building resistance groups to take back what is theirs without getting captured or killed. Rick C-97B is a simple man trying to survive after losing his Morty, and Morty D-753 is just a simple Morty trying to survive in the Resistance forces. Rick pays the hidden Resistance a visit. Long story short; Rick is actually an undercover spy hired by the president but finds himself drawn to the energetic Morty named D-753...





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> im writing another Citadel fanfiction, based in the same universe as my other Citadel fanfiction (set BEFORE its events, however). this one shall focus more on angst and platonic relationships. hope y'all enjoy this angst fest.

Rick Sanchez of dimension C-97B used to be a good man. He tried his best to make his Morty happy. He didn't bludge off the Smith family by living in the garage and not paying for rent like most Ricks did. He didn't go around committing acts of terrorism and committing genocide. He didn't force alien races into slavery. He didn't abuse his family. He didn't murder people for no reason. He hardly ever drank. It confused other Ricks; the way C-97B lived. There was something off about him. Too happy, too nice, actually cared about setting his life right after creating the portal gun...

The things he did right didn't change the way he thought. He wanted to do all the things he stopped himself from doing. He wanted to be free of his heavy thoughts. He wanted to do anything he wanted like most other Ricks, but he could never bring himself to do it. Especially after he lost his original Morty.

C-97B is a dimension where Earth is comprised of avian humans. They were simply people with wings, talon-like hands, and talons for feet. They had feathers covering their arms and legs, sometimes even replacing what most people call hair.

Rick's wings were a similar colour to his hair, just slightly lighter. His feathers were messy and ruffled most of the time, and they almost reached the floor. Since he's part avian, his body shape isn't quite human. He's shorter than most Ricks, and his body shape is also different, albeit, not by much.

No, they don't have beaks.

C-97B's Morty was the purest boy Rick had ever seen. He was so small, but his wings were big and beautiful. They were a magnificent shade of brown with blue hues streaked through them. His hair was always sticking up slightly and he would always be smiling. He warmed Rick's cold heart whenever he saw the kid.

Rick remembered seeing Morty fly for the first time. He was trained well in flying, performing multiple different stunts and even resembling a Phoenix as he swooped past the bright, orange star in the sky.

Rick lost him two years ago. They were on an adventure before a group of Ricks captured the avian duo. They performed horrible tortures on them both, but mostly Morty. Rick still can't get the image out of his mind. They forced him to watch as Morty's beautiful, unique wings were torn painfully from his body, and thrown aside like trash. Rick remembered thrashing and screaming, crying and almost puking from the sight. His Morty died from blood lost not too long after. He watched as the precious light from his grandson's eyes faded.

Rick was let go. His capturers knew they had done enough damage.

He never went back to his home dimension. The Smith family doesn't even know what happened to them, but over a years time, they probably think they're both dead. They couldn't be farther from the truth.

C-97B lived on the Citadel after that, he didn't want a replacement Morty, and without one, his brainwaves would be picked up easily. He sometimes visited planets to get a rest from his counterparts and the city life, but lately, he hasn't been able to leave.

No one has.

When a Morty became president, everything went wrong. Everyone was locked inside the Citadel, unable to ever leave without a portal gun. Any portal guns were taken from the citizens. Anyone with a weapon was seized, alcohol was banned, religions were abolished, and no one could access outside media.

The president had complete governmental control over his citizens. He was a totalitarian, a psychopathic child that wanted the orgasmic thrill of power. With more than half the population consisting of Ricks, their irrational attachment to their grandsons made his take over quick. Citadel guards seized cities, killing anyone who chose to resist when they discovered the true colours of the president. The police force became brutal and cruel, assaulting citizens for no other reason than fun. Bodies littered the streets before the street sweepers came to do their job.

Graffiti coats nearly every wall. 'Resist', 'The President Lies', 'don't trust him!', 'Born to Die'.

Propaganda posters are stuck to the walls of the falling cities. Some blow in the breeze after becoming loose, mere dots in the sky resembling birds.

He's always talking. The president has a big mouth that can't learn how to shut for a good minute or so. Big digital billboards project his face and voice as he talks nonsense for ages. Sometimes even hours. His voice is so bland and dead. It hurts to listen to. It's horrifying to listen to, as well. He doesn't stutter, doesn't hesitate, doesn't show emotion or anything. He's just a bag of meat that desires the sadistic pleasure of people living in poverty and pain.

Rick hates him. Every Rick does, even Mortys hate him too. But no one can help themselves from joining his forces. Other than the ones that are forced to join by being drafted and converted into emotionless killing machines, some Ricks or Mortys decide to join themselves to help the cause so they don't end up dead like everyone else. That's the only reason, other than the sick fucks that are just like the president and join just so they can beat innocent citizens senseless.

C-97B is ashamed to say he's apart of the forces himself. Only a mere week ago, Rick decided to join the Citadel Defence Unit (C.D.U). He was kept in the dark for a few days, before they finally got back to him. He was assigned the job as an undercover spy, where he would travel into areas that could be homes to resistance forces and take photos and record information. He had a camera device surgically implanted into his right eye. He could control it manually, such as enabling it, disabling it, or taking images, etc. but the C.D.U headquarters could track where he was because of the eye. They saw everything, except when he disabled the eye so he could have some privacy.

With his black tank top (the entire shirt didn't have a back so his wings could be comfortable) and black jeans, he was shoved onto a train and sent to Sector 2, District #3. The Citadel was split into different sectors and districts. Four sectors, meaning the domes, and the districts, areas within the sectors.

The ride was quick. Everyone on the train was silent, except for the Morty that was curled up in a ball on the chair, crying. When Rick asked another Rick what his problem was, the man just simply replied, "his Rick died." It was clear from then on that Rick would just have to ignore the boy as he definitely wasn't going to stop crying anytime soon.

It gave him ample time to rethink his life choices and how he ended up... here. He hardly hurt anyone. His family loved him, truly. Even _Jerry_ trusted him. He missed Morty so much. He missed the sparkle in his eyes whenever he saw something new or did something fun and different. He missed the way he would giggle when Rick told a stupid joke, or the way he would smile when Rick stood up for him. Morty was the only impulse control he had; the only vein of sanity he had left, and he was taken from him... so easily... _so quickly._

He clenched his fists until they ached.

Rick _used_ to be a good man. He lost his purity when he decided to betray his people in an act of cowardliness, that was something he knew he would never be able to regain; never again.

\---

Morty Smith of dimension D-753 used to an innocent boy. He lived happily with his family and went on adventures with his Rick like any other Morty. That's until Rick took his family away. It was no one else's fault but his. His Rick moved them both to the Citadel so they had somewhere to live.

Morty lost his family when he was thirteen. He'd been with Rick since he was eleven. Now, he had lived on the Citadel for a year. Recently, he hadn't been able to go on adventures with Rick. For a matter of fact, _no_ Morty has.

The president trapped everyone inside the Citadel. No one leaves, and the ones who enter stay forever.

Morty was given two choices. Stay with Rick, or have him sent away.

He didn't hesitate when he told them to send him away. He never knew what became of him, but he assumed he was living in Ricktown and was either dead, still in the town, or had already been shipped off to the factory.

Morty was living by himself, wandering the streets without anyplace to go home to. Until he found the _Resistance_. They took him under their wing, letting him sleep in a bed and actually eat and drink. Even though he lived underground in an abandoned sewer, it was nicer than living on the streets.

It didn't help that he was a satyr. His fur became dirty, stinky and messy rather quickly while living underground. His hooves had dirt coating them and his horns, too. At least with his powerful legs, he could jump around the sewers whenever he was bored. Anything was useful to get his mind off the hell he was living in. Slavery, genocide, and totalitarianism. He wished he paid more attention in class when they were learning about World War II. He could have learnt a thing or two about how to survive in such horrible conditions.

He had friends in the resistance, though, and he was as happy as a child could be during the Apocalypse. With his friends, he has killed brainwashed guards and sadistic police officers mercilessly that were either intending to capture them or hurt others with no reason behind their disgusting actions.

As Morty rested on his mattress in the dark hideaway, it gave him an adequate amount of time to reminisce about his past life and all the fun adventures he would go on with Rick. He smiled gently, but his heart wretched painfully. Rick was a horrible man. Maybe not all of them, especially not the ones in the Resistance, but at least his Rick was. Sure, he had his moments where he would talk to Morty like an actual human being and treat him with some fucking respect, but he always ended up yelling at him one way or another or ended up getting his entire family murdered.

He clenched his teeth so hard he swore he felt them crack under the sheer force.

Morty _used_ to be an innocent boy. Now he had the blood of his enemies on his hooves and a dead family to avenge.


	2. Goodbye Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finally finds a Resistance camp but he becomes heavily guilt-racked about his assigned job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire thing is based on a Gmod map. it's called City-8, it's awesome. also, this chapter is based on what happened during my playthrough, so any predictable moments are Gmod's fault ;)  
> anyway, here's the song they're listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBlmQCWSR9U

One thing you couldn't do was ask for directions to the nearest resistance camp. For one, whoever you're asking will probably think you're apart of the Citadel guard and testing them, or whoever you're asking might tell the Citadel guard that you're looking for the resistance camp.

So, really, you couldn't just ask where the resistance camps were.

Other than that, Rick C-97B has been called 'Rird' quite a lot through the hours he's been walking around the Citadel mindlessly and he's found that he's adopted the nickname. It was much easier to answer to than, 'Rick', especially when you live in a city full of yourself. He responded to all different nicknames, actually. 'Squawker', 'Feathers', and even the simple 'Bird Rick'.

He passed a flight of stairs full of debris. The stairs led deep into a dark tunnel, and by the timetable on the wall next to it, Rird assumed that it was an old subway tunnel. He walked up the debris and peeked through the multiple holes scattered along the wall of broken objects. Just at the bottom of the flight of stairs in the descending tunnel of darkness, was a single light. It was dim and it flickered a familiar orange glow. Anyone who walked past the debris would most likely completely miss the glow which kept whatever was down there safe from any suspicious guards. He knew the glow was definitely a nearby fire, and even better, probably a resistance campsite fire pit.

He needed to find a way in there, first. The stairs were completely blocked by debris. There was no way he could just push his way through there.

He went up to the nearest Rick and asked him instead. "Is there any other way to the subway?"

At first, Rick had no idea what the feathered man was talking about, then he noticed the blocked tunnel and the confusion swept off his face. "Why the hell are you asking?"

"I work with the Citadel guard. I need to get down there."

The man definitely wasn't a part of the resistance. He didn't look worried for anyone who might be in the subway, only bitter at Rird. No one liked the Citadel guard, so it was expected.

"I'm guessing you think it's some sort of Resistance camp? I've heard they block off their campsites pretty well. The other entrance is probably blocked too, then."

Rird growled. "Do you know about any secret entrances?"

"How the fuck would I know? But in all honesty, if a Rick built the campsite, then the entrance is probably very cleverly hidden."

"Shit, you're right..." he looked around, spying at the building directly next to him. "I'll just check every single fucking building on the block then. Ugh."

The other Rick started to continue his own trek. "Have fun, traitor." With a fake smile, he waved and walked away as his expression turned sour.

Rird grunted. He walked into the building next to them, finding that it resembled a hotel of some sort. It was gritty and the dark walls were lined with age. There was a flight of stairs next to him which led upstairs, but the rest of the room was empty. 

He had to make a plan. Something that would make finding these hideouts easier. He would have to check for hollow floorboards, walls and maybe even ceilings. He travelled up the stairs. The next floor was also empty. No doors, just dim ceiling light. The next floor had a door, which led into an empty room. The other doors inside the room were either a bathroom and kitchen. No one was living here, so his suspicions grew. He headed back downstairs to the first floor and looked around. He stomped around. The floor wasn't hollow.

He knocked on the walls. Nope, nothing hollow-- wait.

He knocked on the wall again.

An echo. There was something behind the wall. The wall was a goddamn secret door! He wondered how lucky he was to find it so quick but quickly regained his composure. Just before he opened it, he paused.

"Wait... how the fuck do I open it?"

Maybe a hidden lever? Hidden panel? He would have to check.

He dragged his hands across the walls of the building, looking for something 'clickable'. This went on for twenty minutes. He found nothing. Until he remembered something. Something so obvious that he felt like a complete idiot.

He was given a sonic device when he signed up for the C.D.U. for this exact purpose. 

With a loud sigh, he took it out of his pockets. The device, much like the sonic screwdriver in Doctor Who (which was obviously based on it. Ricks are such nerds), could emit shrill sounds that were able to do... well, pretty much anything when it came to electronics. Such as unlocking doors that may be hidden to all access.

He held it in front of the supposed hidden door and activated the device, letting it glow a bright blue as it worked its magic. The wall released a loud metal groan, and the wall slid down into the floor. Woah, it was definitely hollow. The door was an inch thick and behind it was a corridor that turned right. Before the door could close on him, he lunged through, watching as the door closed again with a loud, stern 'click!'.

He snuck the sonic device into his pant's pocket and turned the right corner. Beyond him was a flight of stairs that went down a couple of feet. When he made it down, he turned left and carried on his trek. Wherever he was, it stunk. It reeked of dirty men, rotten meat and sewage. He walked past a wall of gold, confused about why modern Citadel tech was down there and found the source of why it stunk so bad.

It _was_ a sewer. And quite a big one, too. He stood above the lane of green, dirty water on the wooden plank that so happened to be placed there, and looked around. A single red sofa caught his eye. Next to the sofa was a table and some decaying posters on the wall. There was a door a few feet behind the soda.

Rird could hear a soft tune playing behind the door, along with voices. The voices weren't the song playing, the voices were coming from Ricks and Mortys.

_Found you._

He crept up to the door and took a deep breath. There was a chance that in the next few seconds he could die, but as long as he got a promotion for capturing them, he was fine.

He snaked his fingers around the door handle and snapped it open, pushing the door open slowly.

The voices stopped as the music kept playing softly.

The click of weapons froze Rird in place. He stared at the barrels of guns pointed at him, and simply smiled in return.

"Who are you?" One of the Ricks asked. He was the closest and had his gun aimed directly aimed at Rird's head.

"Rick C-97B. Also known as Rird. I'm looking for a resistance camp to join," he replied meekly, feigning fear at the gun pointed at him. To keep his title as an undercover spy, he had to make himself seem like a random Rick that has nothing to do with the C.D.U. It shouldn't be hard at all, he was a normal citizen for years before anyway.

The resistance member was suspicious. "How can we believe you? There should be no way you can get down here without being a part of the resistance anyway."

He quickly thought of an excuse. "Uh, I was a part of another resistance. They were killed by Citadel guards. I used my sonic device to open the hidden door I found."

Another Rick stepped up. "Boss, can't we just kill him?" He asked, irritated and vexed.

"I'm standing right here, you know--"

"He's obviously a spy!"

_Fuck._

The apparent leader of the resistance camp halted. He lowered his weapon and relief purged Rird's insides.

"Look, we can't just shoot anyone that comes through here. We'll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't call any forces in. We don't want to kill innocents, do we?"

The others groaned in agreement.

"Good. Hoover, I'm assigning you to watch him. Don't let him out of your sight," the leader instructed, his words succinct.

Hoover, who happened to be a Morty, came out of the darkness. He was also holding a gun, but there was something different about him than other Mortys. He had goat legs and two little horns. He scowled at Rird.

"Only my friends call me Hoover. You can call me D-753," he articulated harshly at Rird as he bared his teeth spitefully. 

Rird swallowed uncomfortably. "Y-yeah, got it."

"There are not enough beds, so you can sleep on the ground. For now, just sit in the corner so I can watch you. I'm not letting your stupid ass stop me from talking to my friends."

Rird nodded. This Morty was scary. He didn't want to get on his bad side.

"Good." He looked away from Rird and addressed his friends. "Let's go back to partying!"

They whooped, completely ignoring Rird. He didn't blame them. He was just some random stranger that jeopardized their lives and stopped their party. He watched in silence as they talked and cheered to the song. The song was familiar.

He listened closely to the beat and lyrics.

_"And if I catch my death of cold..."_

From there on, everyone in the room seemed to go crazy. Not in a psycho way, they just really seemed to like the song. Rird did too. He tapped along to the beat, singing under his breathe. He caught D-753 staring at him from the corner of the room. When they made eye contact, the goat boy glared hatefully, giving Rird a quaint fright.

_"I'm waiting for the stormy afternoon, let's find a shower soon."_

There was around six Ricks in here and four Mortys. By the looks of it, they were all friends and happy. It hurt Rird's heart. All these poor people had been trapped inside the Citadel, too afraid to live on the surface in case they were killed by guards for no reason. They formed groups to take back their freedom, but honestly, they had no chance. Rird's seen the president's army. Small groups on the Citadel were specks compared to the brainwashed soldiers; tiny specks that they can simply flick away with their fingers.

They were happy though. These resistance members were smiling from ear to ear, cheering and singing, laughing and dancing, they were having the time of their life. They blocked out the horrible world above them and kept each other close. They were a family. They would do anything for their family. Rird begrudged them. He wished he had what they had.

D-753 was still glaring at him intently.

That Morty was apart of the family. He wasn't going to let a Rick destroy his family. Maybe the boy had already lost people because of his original Rick. That could be the reason they chose him to watch over Rird. Or maybe the boy had trust issues and a whole lot of patience?

Whatever it was, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the gaze. His blue eyes showed trauma and behind them was hatred.

Rird wanted to help him. Rird wanted to help them all, but all he was doing was endangering them. He was a tumour on their happy family, and they didn't even know a tumour was there. All he was to them was a bump that they mistook for a mole, but with time, they would realise he's a lethal tumour. This time, however, he wouldn't be cut off.

His heart was aching, though. His thoughts were discombobulated as they raged in his head in a wave of emotion and distraught. He couldn't do this! He couldn't tear apart a family just for his own selfish desires!

With a defeated sigh, he disabled his camera eye. He wasn't going to let the president find this family. This family had to be kept secure. Rird pledged to protect them and any other family on the Citadel, but just beneath his hope lay fear. The foreboding fear that his plans were soon to be demolished by his own doing.


	3. Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rird examines the rebels closer and realises something.

They stopped partying after the song stopped. They let the other songs continue to play softly but it was only background noise to them. For the size of the room, you'd think they would get out more so they didn't have to be in such close proximity to each other, but no, they never left the room. One Morty was sitting on the table, shooed off by a Rick who needed to cook. There were another two Mortys sitting on the bottom bunk of their bed. The other Ricks and Mortys were either standing around talking, or sitting around somewhere.

Rird was sitting alone in the corner still. The satyr Morty that was supposed to be watching him never even attempted to make conversation with him or even acknowledge he was alive, other than the glares he'd keep trained on him for minutes long.

The only person to talk to him was the leader, who came over and sat next to him. "So, _are_ you a spy?" He asked. He knew how Ricks worked since he was a Rick. He had a feeling that guilt would make him say the truth, well, if he was even lying, that is. But seriously, he knew that such a plan wouldn't work, but it was worth a try.

"No."

"You know, I'm really starting to believe you, but I don't want my family getting hurt so... You're going to have to sit in this corner for a while. However, I can keep you busy."

"How?"

"I can tell you everyone's name and the basic facts so you can know the fam."

Rird cocked a brow. "Sure, I guess."

"Alright, so over there," he pointed at the Mortys on the bed. "Believe it or not, those two are twins. Both born in the same dimension, by the same Beth, and nearly at the same time. That's why one of them doesn't look like the usual Morty."

He was right. One of them looked different to the usual. It was... weird, looking at him. It was like something wasn't quite right. His face shape was just slightly off, just slightly different from the boy sitting next to him. He was a clone in a world full of himself, just something went wrong in with his cloning machine.

"The Rick cooking is Chef. He makes the shit we steal or rarely buy."

"He sounds like a nice guy."

"Mhm. Over there is F-777, and no, not the DJ, and there's E-124, N-53A, N-53C, D-753--" he rambled on, pointing at each Rick or Morty that he called out. Within the ten included: a four-armed Morty, a snake Rick, a Rick that looked like he was made of glass, and of course the satyr Morty watching over him. The rest looked too human to count as distinct from the others.

"I was the first to form the resistance. I asked a couple of friends to build a resistance hideout since we were living on the streets," he paused, Rird swore he could feel Rick's heart aching. "They all died. Now it's just me and the rest of the group, they're my friends now, of course. Actually, more like family."

"Yeah. I could tell. You all seem so close."

The leader nodded with a smile. "Even though we rebels live underground, we're still the happiest people in this godforsaken prison."

Rird had to pretend he understood. "Yeah, I feel you."

"Hmm, well, uh, don't get too bored sitting here, alright?"

"I'll try not to."

Rick smiled and patted his back, standing up and wandering off into the groups of rebels. 

He never grew bored. Rird found it more interesting to watch and study them, rather than communicate with them. He watched everything they did. The ways they interacted, talked, or even looked at each other. It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen. Everyone loved each other. They may have been the same people, but they treated each other like completely different entities. Not only that, everyone was way too happy. Ricks aren't happy. They don't smile or laugh this much, they don't talk to others with such respect, and they definitely don't treat Mortys like they're actual living organisms with feelings.

The Citadel was diverse, obviously. It had millions, maybe even billions or _trillions_ of people living on it. But even with its diversity, it was still made up of the same two people. 

Rick and Morty.

Set personalities and fixed appearances. Ricks are sociopathic alcoholics that murder anyone in their way. Mortys are the stupid sidekicks that always turn out killing Ricks in the end. He's seen it too many times for his point to be proved wrong.

But everyone has a fixed attitude through the multiverses. Some, however, seem to break this barrier and be completely different. Unique and... Strange. The Rebels are full of these lots. They're the freak shows. They're different and weird, seen as outcasts and thrown onto the street, just because they proved that not everyone has to be the same, even if they are literally the same person.

Rird froze with a sudden realisation. He stretched his wings and stared at them. Blue feathers stared back at him. 

He didn't drink. He didn't do drugs. He didn't wear a lab coat, ever. His spikey hair was always hanging down more than straight out, he wasn't a murderer, didn't abuse people, his skin wasn't grey, he wasn't rude to everyone. In general, he wasn't Rick. Sure, he was a Rick, but he didn't... Act like one. He was different. Unique. Others saw him as weird and wrong.

But that's the thing.

He _was_ a freak show. He was just like the rebels. He was different. Fate didn't lead him here to kill them, fate led him here to save them!

He would save them. No matter what, they would live. No one had to die, just this once. Just this fucking once.

In his deep thought, he didn't notice the Morty sit next to him.

"Are you okay mister?"

Rird gasped and jolted back. When he realised it was a little Morty, he sighed. "Oh, I'm fine."

"You looked distressed."

"I'm fine. I swear."

The boy smiled. "Good! Stay fine for me. I can feel emotions, that's all. I didn't want to feel sadness."

"Oh, sorry. I'll stay happy."

Morty gave him a quick hug, his third eye (literally) winking at him before he wandered off happily.

The hug was enough to keep him happy for months. He hadn't felt a Morty in years. He forgot how soft their skin was and the feeling in his heart he would get whenever they would touch. It was their deep family bond that made him feel this way. Any Morty was his own, he couldn't let anyone hurt them, not like last time. Never again would that happen.

"Birdy, yo," someone whispered.

Rird looked up at his watcher, D-753.

"What?"

"I need to be in the same room as you, come with me."

Just before he could get a word in, his wrist was grabbed and he was being pulled from the corner.


	4. dance into Danger

D-753 dragged Rird to the subway. The sewer and subway were connected, which Rird didn't find hard to believe.

D-753 brought a radio with him, placing it in the doorway of the abandoned subway. 

"Don't talk," he told Rird as he set the music up. A familiar sound played, already making Rird want to dance. It was "Rags To Riches", quite an old tune, but jazzy.

This part of the subway was closed both ways by the entire ground above having fallen down and blocked the railway. The only way to get to the other side of the subway was through a hallway connecting the two areas.

In the area was a broken train that had been smashed by a rock, however, the top of the train wasn't damaged, only the side. The train had fallen off the rail since the rail was snapped in half and water-filled where the train lay. There were two blue waiting room chairs in the room, both seeming to be made of wood instead of the usual metal. Only three lights lit up the area in a dim blue light, but it was enough to see the walls and floor. 

When the singing started, D-753 jumped onto the train. With his legs, he could jump far and land without falling. He pretended to sing the song as he danced to it, jumping from the train onto the chairs, feigning dramatic scenes as he sung to the ceiling. He pounced onto the train again, tap dancing to the chorus. He ignored Rird completely, but Rird didn't mind. He was a good dancer and the smile on his face made Rird reminisce about his original Morty. He was reminded of the way Morty would smile so brightly when he was happy, and this smile was just the same.

_"My fate is up to youuuu!" ___

__To the last beat, he struck a pose with a happy grin, panting heavily from the amount of dancing and jumping he had performed._ _

__Rird couldn't help but applaud. "Bravo! Bravo!"_ _

__D-753 looked as if he was about to yell at him about something, but he sighed with a gentle smile. "T-thanks..."_ _

__"Where'd you learn to dance?"_ _

__He kicked at the train's roof. "Myself. I get bored down here easily..."_ _

__"You're a good teacher, then."_ _

__D-753 giggled softly. "U-uh, where was your last resistance camp? If you don't mind me asking."_ _

__Rird's smile turned down. He lied about that, now he has to lie about it again, but in more detail. He had to pretend he was sad about something that never happened. The only thing he has lost is his family._ _

__His gut ached with despair. He _lost_ his family. He felt worse about taking this Morty's family, now. He knew how horrible it is to lose everyone you love, even if they aren't dead. Just the thought of never seeing them again upset him. He can't show his face to them ever. No matter what. It'll break his heart even more._ _

__"It... it was in sector 4 of district #2," he lied, his voice low. He was feigning his sadness, but he was already feeling a malaise creeping up his back. "I was out for supplies and came back to a bloody carnage. I dropped everything and ran. Moved sectors and everything."_ _

__D-753 was silent for a moment._ _

__"That blows," he responded quietly. He jumped over to the walkway and stood in front of Rird. "Look, I know I've been a real asshole to you, but I just don't want you to hurt my friends."_ _

__Rird nodded. Oh, he knew. He knew very well the reason why Morty was being so protective._ _

__"I know."_ _

__Silence reigned._ _

__Just before Rird could get another word in, a loud sound sent a tang of dread through him. The sound was obvious. It was a laser gun firing off and it came from the other side of the wall separating them from the camp. D-753 pushed past Rird anxiously._ _

__"What the fuck was that?"_ _

__Rird hoped it was just the others practising aiming._ _

__The single shot was followed by a cacophony of fire, bullets going off everywhere and echoing down the passages of the sewer. Yelling and screaming mixed in with the firing, but were masked by the loud weapons._ _

__"No, no, no!" D-753 screamed, turning to face Rird. He jumped up and grabbed his collar, literally bringing him to the ground in a painful tumble. "DID YOU BRING THEM HERE!?" He shrieked, gripping Rird's throat and constricting it to a painful degree._ _

__He couldn't believe it. He was in shock. He had disabled his eye, they shouldn't be down here! Shit-- he's an idiot. They obviously followed the path Rird took when they watched the footage Rird was collecting. He fucked up! He screwed up D-753's life and broke his family. He hated himself so much. Everything was his fault. Why did he think this was a good idea? He felt like crying, maybe he already was crying, but his mind was pulsing, aching, an endless stream of dread and fear tumbling into his brain._ _

__"I KNEW YOU WERE A SPY!"_ _

__He didn't want to lie. He wanted to say he was right and let him take out all his anger out on him._ _

__"I'm not... a fucking spy! This isn't my fault!"_ _

__"Then why did they come they day you came?!"_ _

__Fuck... "I have no idea, okay?! I swear to the fucking Gods I had nothing to do with this!" He felt a tear on his cheek. They weren't his own. They were Morty's._ _

__He released the grip on Rird's neck and started to sob. "God fucking dammit. I-I-I... I have to help them!"_ _

__Before he could run off, Rird grabbed his wrist. "Don't. They'll kill you."_ _

__"I DON'T CARE," he stated loud and bold, biting Rird's hand. The man released his wrist and jerked back from the sudden pain, letting out a distressed call as D-753 ran off._ _

__"Stupid boy," he muttered bitterly, standing up and grabbing his gun. He would have to mow down the guards if it meant saving the boy. By now, the rebels were probably already dead. He felt guilt boil deep in his gut and knew that he would have to live with that feeling forever if he even survived this._ _

__He chased down D-753. The boy had his gun out and shot at the guards at the other side of the sewer. A barrage of fire came back at him._ _

__Rird couldn't let another Morty die. He lunged for him but was too late, a bullet had already hit him. It pierced through his shoulder, completely searing the skin away and left a patch of bleeding flesh there instead. Blood dribbled down his chest and back as he cried out in pain, tears erupting from his eyes once again._ _

__"Christ!" Rird yelled, holding D-753 in his arms protectively. Another round of fire came at them and he pulled them behind a wall for cover. He heard the guards call out something but couldn't hear them properly through the wall and sound of weaponry. D-753 was crying loudly in his arms, slicks of blood tainted Rird's hand a bright red and felt warm against his skin. Tears drenched his shirt an even darker shade of black as D-753 held his head against his chest roughly._ _

__"I got you, buddy," he cooed, brushing his hair softly. Shit, he wasn't his Morty, this was D-753. What was he doing? The patting seemed to be calming the boy down slightly, so he continued it anyway._ _

__He pulled the gun out of the boy's hands so he could dual wield the fuck out of this. He continued to pat the boy's head with his wings instead._ _

__There were only three guards left, so he congratulated the rebels on the number of kills they laid down before getting killed themselves._ _

__With Morty in no shape to leave his arms, he reached over the wall and went trigger happy. He assumed he scored a few kills from the screams and wet rips of flesh that echoed around the room when the boiling laser met skin._ _

__"Suckers," he mumbled in achievement. He peeked over the wall and saw two dead bodies laid down on the ground with splatters of gore on the walls behind them. Two down, one to go._ _

__Wherever the other one was, Rird would find him and Rird would kill him._ _

__He snuck from wall to wall for cover just in case the guard reemerged. He held D-753 in his wings, just below his outreached arms. The boy wasn't very heavy and Rird's wings had carried heavier, anyway._ _

__He glanced over the grimy wall. The door to the rebel hideout was open, but Rird noticed the blue spikes of hair peeking over the sofa._ _

__Idiot._ _

__Rird fired his weapons and watched as they tore through the sofa's soft material, landing right in the guard. A wall of blood went into the air, accompanied by the soft white wool that was once inside the couch. His screams went silent._ _

__He knew D-753 needed medical attention but he had to know if any of the rebels had survived. He looked into the hideout room to check and saw nothing but blood, guts and corpses. A dead Rick was sprawled out over a table, along with another Rick with his head flat on the ground and the rest of his body on the same table. The rest of the Ricks were simply dead on the ground with their blood coating nearby walls and objects-- a fridge was completely soaked red-- and the Morty bodies were the same. One Morty was dead on the bed, probably shot in his sleep perhaps after the bullet cooked his insides. Whatever weapons the guards were using, it really obliterated their target. Guts were spread out around the floor in disgusting, crimson pools of gore._ _

__Rird couldn't take it._ _

__He tucked his weapons in his pockets and grabbed onto D-753 with his hands, letting his arms sag around his shoulders. He hadn't opened his eyes since he got shot, but at least he was breathing, as shallow and shaky as they were._ _

__He exited the way he entered, instead this time around he was running frantically with a dying satyr boy in his arms. He struggled to open the door with his sonic device and ran onto the streets. Luckily no more guards were coming their way and there wasn't any police around either. They would probably laugh at them if they were here._ _

__"H-help!" He called out, forgetting about his 'Rick' reputation. "Please!"_ _

__A lot of people ignored him as he ambled around, looking for someone that could possibly help until someone did. It was a Morty, just a normal human but he was coated in dirt, bruises and dried blood. The dark bags under his eyes represented the horrible things he's seen and the sleep he's lost, but he didn't look harmful or untrustworthy._ _

__"Bird Rick, follow me. I can help," he spoke softly, but his voice brought Rird great hope._ _

__"Thank you."_ _

__He followed him through a broken fence and into a small area with a ruined car. It was a source of fire with its engine literally burning. He was brought into a small camp, but it wasn't a rebel camp. Just a place for the homeless to stay. There was two mattresses on the ground and a huge digital billboard on the wall in front of him. It was just for advertising. There was a little portable store that they used to store food in._ _

__"So, you're not rebels?"_ _

__"Not even close. Just homeless," he replied, looking at D-753 in Rird's arms. "Who's this?"_ _

__"Morty D-753. He was shot by a guard."_ _

__"Fucking assholes," he spat, rubbing his head. "Just lay him down on the mattress, I'll tell Rick."_ _

__"Thanks, again. Thank you so much."_ _

__The hobo Morty smiled. "Anything for a nice Rick like you."_ _

__He continued to get his Rick, coming back a minute later with a roll of bandage tape and his Rick. His Rick was no different: bruised, bloodied and tired. He didn't look harmful, too._ _

__"Show me the problem," the man said, standing above the broken boy. D-753 stopped crying a while ago, but his breaths were shaky. He noticed the wound quickly, making an 'hmm' in acknowledgement. He ducked down with the roll of tape and bandaged the wound, the blood seeping into the white material and staining it red. The wound seemed to stop bleeding completely._ _

__"There, that should do it. It's what the cops use when they get shot."_ _

__"Fuck-- thank you. I was so worried I was going to lose him again." He wasn't meant to add that 'again' at the end of his sentence._ _

__"Just let him sleep. There's an extra mattress under the shelter if you want to sleep here for the night." He pointed to the sheltered elevated area in the small area._ _

__"Sure, that would be great." He stood up from his squatted position next to D-753 and stretched his back. "You guys are literally the only good people in this fucking town."_ _

__They chuckled. "We know," they said simultaneously, smiling at each other._ _

__He headed to the shelter to sleep. Hopefully, D-753 would be okay, but he could only hope._ _

__He fell asleep after two hours of staring at the roof above him, but only managed to sleep an hour anyway. He was too scared to close his eyes._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rags to riches: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y22tIJ6toPY
> 
> sorry for the a n g s t


	5. new home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the guards come for them and Rird discovers how they're tracking him

He was glad he never got that sleep.

Only a mere twenty minutes after he woke up from his hour nap, hobo Morty ran up to him with a look of distraught on his face

"Get up! They're coming for you! I don't know what you did, but you pissed off the whole lot of 'em," he spoke fast, urging Rird to stand up.

Rird jumped up. "Is Morty okay?"

"He's breathing, but he's asleep. Either you risk him taking too long to wake up or just haul him in your arms and bolt." He shoved a roll of the medical tape into his chest. "Take this, too."

He shoved the roll into his pocket. "I'll just grab him and run. Thanks for everything."

"It was no problem. Now go, run!"

Rird ran to Morty and pulled him up, holding him in his arms, and then bolted. He turned a corner and kept running until he remembered he had wings. For an avian person, he really seemed to forget he could fly a lot.

He leapt into the air and grabbed onto a window sill with his talons, pushing off and then repeating the process until he high enough to get on the top of the building. He flapped his wings powerfully and flew into the air, landing onto the rooftop with a thud. Morty was still safely in his arms but well awake.

"What the hell--" he mumbled, struggling in Rird's arms. Rird let him go and before the boy could do anything, he just groaned out in pain and held his shoulder. "Shit, the resistance. Are they okay? No, they're not, are they? Fuck!" He dragged a hand down his face with a cry of anguish.

"This is your fault!" He turned and pointed at Rird furiously. "You motherfucker."

"Why don't you trust me? I saved your life!" Rird barked back, starting to believe his own lies.

"So what? You didn't save my friends' life, did you?" He growled, kicking at the ground with his hooves.

"I couldn't! They were already dead!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have come to my home in the first place! I don't know if you're a spy or just being tracked, but you brought them there. It's all your fault. I can't believe now two times in my life, a Rick has taken away my family. I fucking hate you all!"

Rird felt his heart stop. D-753 had lost his family before. Oh shit. The guilt in his stomach worsened. "Christ..."

Then he thought about what Morty said. 'Tracked'. Fuck, he was right! The council had to be tracking him in some way, that's how they found him this time around. But how? How are they tracking him? Maybe they put a chip on him. Maybe they can track everyone on the Citadel, but that wouldn't make sense since they literally hire people to find other people.

In his thoughts, he completely missed the charging boy but didn't miss the pain in his stomach. "Fuck!" he keened, falling to the ground with a painful thud. He arched his back with a moan of pain, coughing and spluttering in an attempt to breathe. Morty had kicked him directly in the abdomen and his hoof felt like it had broke every rib inside his chest. He stood over Rird, snarling down at him with bared teeth. They were so close to being friends in the subway but now look at them. D-573 wanted him _dead!_

"I'll fucking murder you. Just like I never had the chance to do to my original Rick."

"Kid... Don't do this," he wheezed painfully, holding his stomach. "I think we're being tracked."

"Oh, wow! No shit!"

In his last attempt to think straight, he came to the only logical conclusion. His eye. The camera in his eye was the tracker. Fuck.

"The tracker!" He gasped randomly, coughing. "I know where it is!"

"Wait, so you were being tracked? You FUCKER!" He kicked him in the side, leaving a dark bruise and a dreadful burning sensation.

Rird cried out in pain, feeling tears well in his eyes. The boy had a powerful kick, he'll give him that. "I didn't know!" He groaned through gritted teeth, failing to sit up without collapsing to the ground again.

"Doesn't matter, you're still a piece of shit," D-753 hissed.

"Just let me remove it, then you can kill me."

D-753 glared harshly. He backed up eventually and folded his arms. "Fine. Hurry up."

Rird thanked him silently. However, he had no idea how to disable the tracker. It wasn't something they built in which he could control with his mind. He had a bad feeling that the following events would bring him a lot of pain and possibly sight loss. If he couldn't surgically remove the camera, all he could do was pull it out. _Pull his entire eyeball out of its socket, that is._

He stood up with a groan. He couldn't do it. There was no way he could bring himself to luxate his own eye. He didn't even fully know if the tracker was in his eye! With enough motivation, he might pull it out, but right now, he's got nothing. The only thing he had is a boy to protect. Wait-- that's it. That's his motivation. _D-753_. Rird saved his life and he wasn't giving up on him just yet. Ripping his eye out of his socket would keep him safe. No matter how painful, it was his job as a Rick to protect a Morty.

"This is for you, D-753."

Morty cocked his brow in puzzlement but retained his angry scowl.

Rird reached up to his eye. Hesitation made his hands shake violently and the anxiety made him feel like keeling over and puking his guts out. His heart was racing; beating so hard that it felt like it was pounding on his rib cage with enough force to make it out of his chest if it went on for any longer. He took a few trembling breaths and tried to push his eye out. He screamed in anguish and had to stop. Fuck! He couldn't do this shit!

He looked at Morty. He looked worried now.

_This is for D-753. Just get it over and done with._

He blanked his mind and reached for his eye, this time impaling it with his claw. Morty gasped in shock, but Rird simply screamed in agony. Too many nerves were getting set off, so many sensitive nerves. Blood dribbled down his finger as he pulled his claw out, the eyeball coming out with it. The bloody optic nerve connected the eye to its socket, and with a strong tug, it snapped and he shrieked in pain. Gore poured from his eye and down his face as he yelled and thrashed around. Many different curse words were thrown about during the agonizing process. He pulled the eyeball off his claw and threw it across the rooftops, watching it until it became a crumb in the sky and went over a building.

He grabbed the medical tape and pulled some of it off, wrapping it around his head in a makeshift eyepatch. He breathed heavily, a burning hot throbbing sensation racked him brutally.

Morty was more than concerned now. His jaw had dropped and he couldn't even produce any words in his shock. He just blabbered nonsense, pointing at his face with a wordlessly moving mouth that resembled a breathing fish. "Wha-what the fuck?!" He screamed, his legs feeling like jelly from the horrific and gory sight. 

Rird looked at him, his eye now replaced with the bloodied tape over his face. "The tracker... Was in... My eye..." he breathed harshly, still in pain.

He suddenly missed seeing a full view of everything. Now one side of his vision was completely black, and probably forever, too.

"Why was it your eye?!"

"I know things... I guess."

"You're insane," he muttered, having difficulty looking at Rird's face.

"No, I just-- I just care too much."

D-753 made a look; a sad look and looked at the ground. He was starting to think Rird really wasn't a spy. He was too much like them; too much like the rebels. He was different than other Ricks, which made him strange, so he became a rebel. Well, that's what he was starting to think anyway.

"I said I'd kill you after you did... _That_... but I think I'll give you a chance. Last time I left a Rick I ended up on the streets." He didn't look up from the floor as he spoke.

"I'm glad." He paused. "Do you know any place we can hide out, then?"

D-753 looked up with a swift glance. "The other side of town. It's deserted, except for hobos."

"Good enough." He reached his arms out. "I'll fly us there."

D-753 hesitated. When he made eye contact with Rird's single eye, he saw trust and love. _Fine_. He waddled into his arms.

"So where's the other part of town?"

D-753 pointed south. "Fly over there, I'll tell you when to stop."

Rird nodded and leapt into the air, holding D-753 tightly to his chest. The boy wrapped his legs around his waist in fright. Rird couldn't exactly fly at his age (mostly because of his size), but he sure as hell could glide.

He flew over rooftops and streets, Ricks and Mortys, guards and police. Very few people noticed the avian man in the sky, and honestly, Rird felt like he was recreating the end of Toy Story 1.

D-753 was screaming at first, scared they were gonna drop, but when he realised it was safe he looked calm and then smiled. He viewed the ground below him, watching as buildings passed by and neon signs were simply blurs in his perception.

The land changed. It went from city to ruins and that was their destination. The ruins of Sector 2, district #4, the place that was never fixed.

"There!" D-753 called out, trying to get his voice over the loud rush of wind.

Rird looked down. That definitely looked desolate. "Coming in for a rough landing. Embrace yourself."

D-753 immediately held on tighter as they descended. Air went past them at an alarmingly fast rate, almost ripping the skin right off their faces as they swooped to the ground. Rird landed on the ground with his talons. He skidded across the ground for a good ten seconds as his talons left three deep scratch marks across the floor. The sudden force threw D-753 from his chest and the boy did a few rolls before coming to a stop. He groaned as he sat up, unharmed, just bruised a little on his elbows.

"Jesus, you can fly, but you can't fucking land."

Rird shook his feathers and stretched his back. Flying was tiring, he hadn't done it in so long that he forgot about the aftermath of the flight. "Yeah, well I'm sixty years old, I can't exactly fly like I used to," he paused. "Never mind. I never could land."

"Thought so." D-753 brushed the dirt off his clothes and glanced around. "It's still desolate as usual."

It sure was. The buildings were ruined and withered, their dark colours even more dismal than normal. They looked like they had been burnt to crisps and never repaired, some simply construction posts without a casing layer of metal around them. Firepits blazing in barrels were set around inside the destroyed buildings, giving off a bright orange light to lead the way. The ground was littered with tattered posters of the usual things you see around town, except propaganda or advertisements of election candidates. Graffiti adorned the walls, flowing on the walls in elegant swirls and artworks. On one wall, the entire surface was a covered with a painting of the new Citadel logo, just with a Rick and Morty instead. The Rick laid dead on the floor with the Morty impaling a knife through his stomach. The Morty was dressed black with a red tie, obviously representing the president.

Just in front of them was an old mall. It was huge and destroyed, nearly every window was smashed and rubble was building up around its sides from the amount debris it released as it slowly broke down over time.

"So, there isn't any resistance here?"

"Don't know," D-753 replied, eyeing the building beyond them. "Probably small forces of them. The rest are just homeless thugs most likely."

"Sounds nice," he remarked sarcastically, fluffing his wings. "Should we find a building without anyone else living inside it?"

"If possible. I don't trust anyone here. They're weird."

"I don't blame you." Rird walked past D-753 in search for an abandoned building with no residents. D-753 followed closely behind, not wishing to get kidnapped by some crook Rick that shoves pickles up his ass because there are no dildos being sold anymore. It was oddly specific for the worst reason. A close friend of his had that very problem happen to him. He didn't shut up about it for weeks until he was killed by a guard. He trembled at the memory.

"Are you okay?" Rird inquired, concerned.

"Wha-- what? Yeah, I'm fine."

"You looked like you were having a war flashback. Anyway, look over there." He pointed at a run-down building that was quite long in shape. It had doors and windows all over it, and a single flickering pink, neon sign saying 'MOTEL SANCHEZ'.

There weren't any orange flickering glows emitting from the building, so it was assumed it was empty.

"I think it's empty," he concluded.

"Let's check it out."

They walked under the hanging motel sign and trekked inside, passing through the broken doors. The walls looked charred and infested with space bugs, the doors looked bolted shut, the windows were so greasy and dirt coated that you couldn't see through them and the floor had piles debris from where the floor above had fallen in. It smelt like shit, literally, and even the rot of bodies wafted through the miserable halls.

Not a sign of the president's takeover was plastered on the walls. Most buildings had posters of him and propaganda scattered on them, but here... There wasn't a sign of his domineering face. This place must have been left to rot before the president took over and was never refurbished since.

Other than the revolting smells and putrid state, it was homey.

"Anyone here?" Rird called out into the hallway. Nothing answered back. "Empty. Nice."

"I'm not sleeping in the same room as you. Goodnight." D-753 walked into the nearest room and slammed the door shut, leaving Rird in the hall alone.

He sighed. "Fine." He walked into the room next to D-753's and closed the door softly. He slept on a mattress with a broken bed frame, but it was the best he's slept in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for angst in like... one or two chapters... oof


	6. friends or foes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D-753 can't sleep and ventures outside, finding the homeless Mortys he heard lived around here.

D-753 didn't sleep. His shoulder was aching and his mind was too awake; never falling silent.

He crawled out of bed and trudged along outside, gun in hand. His feet shuffled tiredly as he trailed around aimlessly. He stopped and looked at the sky. It was foggy from the factory's smoke but he could still see outside; into the stars. The black abyss of space stared back down at him. It showed him pity. It spoke to him, saying, "who are you?" or "hello?"

Then he realised the sky wasn't talking. The voice was coming from another Morty.

He looked down from the sky and made eye contact with familiar blue eyes.

He was too tired to even be surprised. "I'm not here to hurt you," D-753 promised, even though there was a gun in his hand.

The other Morty looked amphibian, like a fish. He didn't have a bowl over his head, though, and looked quite human. His scales were green but had a purple metallic shine to them. He was more of a frog than a fish, though.

"Who are you?"

"D-753. Homeless and Rickless."

"C-8089. Same here."

"Good to know we're on the same page."

The other Morty lowered his weapon. "You have a place to stay?"

"Yeah, in the abandoned motel."

Silence.

"Wanna hang? There's a group of Mortys around here."

D-753 narrowed his eyes. He hesitated, not sure whether to trust him or not. But he was tired, alone and had nothing better to do. What's the worst that could happen?

"Sure, I guess."

C-8089 smiled. It wasn't as friendly as D-753 would have hoped. "Follow me."

He walked off and D-753 followed. He was led to an almost completely levelled building. It had fallen over but another building kept it leaning at an angle, so it made for a nice shelter, for which the Mortys kept safe under with a firepit and chairs. They sat in a circle, sharing stories and laughing with each other. Most of them were human but looked grimy and had torn clothes and dirt coated faces. 

"Here we are. The Ricks aren't here at the moment, just us Mortys."

"How many Ricks?"

"Three."

"Wow," he exclaimed softly. He looked around. The roof was literally just the toppled building and the sides were open to any visitors that wanted to enter, except they were hidden by dirty blankets that hung from the roof.

"Come sit. We love new people. We always want them to feel loved."

"Yeah... Okay," he replied nervously, clearly uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. They seemed weird... Way too weird. _Uncomfortably weird_.

The fish-like Morty sat down and patted the spot next to him.

D-753 sat down and glanced around. Many different eyes were trained on him and not all the faces they belonged to were smiling at him.

"Hello!" One of then said, smiling wide. "Who are you?"

"D-753."

"I'm T-12C! Nice to meet you!"

He was a little too happy but still managed to be the most harmless looking out of the lot.

It took a whole minute of uncomfortable silence and staring until they all looked away.

C-8089 kept talking to him, keeping him enlightened throughout the night. They talked smack about Ricks and the stupid and selfish things they did, they discussed how much they missed home and their families, and discovered that they both have a seething distaste for the president. C-8089 never grew bored. He kept talking and talking, smiling and laughing and getting excited about the most random things. It was almost as if he was waiting for the other to become exhausted.

"So, who's the boss here?" D-753 eventually asked, glancing around the circle of Mortys. Their bodies were encumbered by the orange light of the fire, the reflection of the blaze making their eyes seem to sparkle.

"Him." He pointed at a buff Morty that was sitting on the opposite side of them, talking to a bunch of Mortys. He definitely looked like the leader type, a domineering leader at that. His muscles were bulging and his torn yellow shirt was stained a disgusting brownish colour. In all honesty, it looked like D-753's when he didn't wash the blood out for a while. Just the stain on the buff Morty's shirt looked even worse than that. 

"I can see whyyy..." he finished his sentence with a yawn. His eyelids felt heavy and tired. His mind trained to keep them from falling over his eyes. In any second, he could just pass out, which he wouldn't, but he felt like it. He should really get back to the motel--

"Are you tired?"

Was he a mind reader or was his exhaustion really that obvious? "Yeah..."

"You can sleep here if you want."

"Nah, I'm fine, the bed at the motel is comfy--"

"NO!" his voice became loud and stern before he cleared his throat and went back to his normal squeaky friendly tone. "Just stay here. Please."

D-753 backed away. "Seriously. Calm down, I'll come back tomorrow."

The other growled and lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. " _No, you're staying here,_ " he hissed venomously.

"What the fuck? Let go--"

He stood up and threw a punch at D-753. He gasped and fell back, landing on the rough soil beneath their feet. He groaned and looked up, watching as C-8089 towered above him. The other Mortys stood up as well, simply staring down at him. Then they all smiled.

"Is it time?" One of them asked.

"I think so," another replied.

"What the hell?!" D-753 exclaimed, ready to get to his feet before a boot collided with the base of his skull. He was knocked cold and his head hit the ground with a thud, leaving a bruised bump on his scalp. His vision went black as he fell into unconsciousness and his breathing returned to a calm state.

The last thing he heard before fully passing out was, "Come on boys, let's hold him in position."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does C-8089 sound familiar? >:)


	7. trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D-753 will never look at himself the same ever again.

D-753 came to in the arms of three different hands. Two held each of his arms tightly and one was tugging at his hair, keeping his head in place. He blinked until he could see more than black dots and saw a figure standing in front of him. D-753 was on his knees so he had to strain his neck upwards to see who was in front of him.

Blue eyes stared down at him. They weren't friendly in the slightest. Ill intentions were etched onto the rims of his iris' with a sick grin plastered across his lips.

It was the buff Morty from before. _What was going on?_

"Let me go," D-753 growled, trying to haul his way out of the grip the Mortys had on his arms. They dug their nails into his skin as a warning and pulled him back into position. "What do you want?" He questioned, grunting at the sharp stinging pain in his arms.

The buff Morty huffed. "Don't feel so bad, everyone 'ere has gone through the process. Man up and accept it." He had a strange accent, almost as if he was missing a few teeth or had a lazy jaw.

"What?" D-753 was getting more worried as the seconds passed. _Were they going to brand him or something?_ "I don't want to join your little group, let me go!"

"This ain't meant to make you a part of nuthin'." He brought a hand down to his jeans. "C-8089, hold him tighter."

The cold hands in D-753's hair pulled tighter. That little fucker! He thought they were friends or at least somewhat close. They were talking all night and sharing stories, and now he was aiding the guy about to kick his ass. This is why D-753 didn’t trust people, especially Mortys or Ricks.

"Open up, pretty boy."

D-753 didn't understand, not until Buffy-- that was his nickname now-- unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out. D-753's heart went into a craze of panic, his stomach threatened to empty itself, and his mind screamed out for help. _Not okay! This was not okay!_ He struggled for release, grunting when C-8089 held his head still with both his hands.

"Fuck off!"

Buffy thrusted his hips forward as if to tease D-753, but the boy simply jerked back in disgust. He did not want to suck his own dick, not ever and not now.

Buffy leaned forward and grabbed D-753's hair himself and pulled him forward, forcing his lips onto his member. Even when D-753 wanted to stop, the other wouldn't let him.

"Open up, Morty."

When D-753 didn't comply, he simply pushed himself past D-753's sealed lips and shoved his cock into his mouth. The victim squirmed and screamed, opening his mouth as far as he could so he wouldn't have to feel the skin on his lips. The tip went to the back of his throat, triggering his gag reflex. He gagged and coughed, feeling like he was about to release a load of bile from his throat. Buffy rubbed his erect penis all over D-753's tongue, disgusting him further. The taste was horrible, but the real horror was the fact that he was being sexually assaulted-- by himself.

He was so scared. When Buffy thrust harder, D-753 lost it. He bit down as hard as he could, his goat-like teeth ripping through flesh. Buffy released a horrid scream of agony and pulled out, falling back. D-753 could taste blood but it was sure as hell better than having a dirty cock in his mouth. The others reacted and their grips loosened, giving D-753 the opportunity to bolt. And he did. They tried to grab him but he was already on his feet and running nearly as fast a goddamn sports car, bouncing from foot to foot as he took long strides to reach his destination. The screams behind him faulted but he wasn't going to stop running. He arrived at the motel and ran inside.

He stopped in front of his door. He didn't know where Rird was, but he didn't know whether to go to him or not. It was embarrassing! He would be ashamed to tell Rird what had happened to him. He got raped by himself, that isn't just something you tell everyone. It made him anxious just to think about. If he tried talking about anything he’s gone through in his life, he’d break down. He would get too anxious, too disgusted, too upset... He wanted to keep it to himself and never talk about it, he wanted to push it into the back of his memories, and then move cities. He couldn't stay here with those freaks. Who knew when they could come into the motel and kill him?

He couldn't move from outside his door. He was so fucking scared, he was shaking. His legs felt like jelly and his mouth ached. He couldn't even close his mouth or let his tongue rest. He kept thinking about it, couldn't get it off his mind. He could taste the iron tang of Buffy's blood and the skin of his... Disgusting, hairy dick. He was truly the scum of the Citadel. The president wasn't even that bad, he was just a megalomaniac, not a filthy rapist. Or, at least he hoped he wasn’t a rapist. Maybe the sick Mortys on the Citadel were just his puppets. That wouldn’t be anything new. This wasn’t the time for conspiracy theories, though.

He needed to find Rird.

He opened a door in the hallway and peeked inside. No Rird. He checked the other side of the hall. No Rird again. He checked one more door and spotted a bird-man in bed lying on his back, his wings sprawled out under him. He was breathing steadily, obviously asleep. D-753 didn't plan on waking him anyway. He crept into the room and crawled into bed next to him as quiet as he could and curled into a ball, also keeping a distance away from Rird but letting a calm hand rest on his arm. The skin contact help let him know he was safe; let him know that Rird wouldn't leave him. If the skin contact disappeared, he would freak out. He wasn't going to let those Mortys get him.

Every second that passed; he would force his eyes open and looked around the room in fear, but it was too dark to see nearly anything, anyway. The window was too dirty to look out either. The door was wide open and sometimes he swore he could see dark figures standing in them. He tried telling himself it was just his scared mind overreacting, but he couldn’t believe himself, even if he was right.

It took him a couple of hours to fall asleep. But when he did sleep, it wasn't for long.

But even though he tried to stay quiet and not wake Rird, he failed. The man was awoken by the time he first crawled into bed with him but decided not to alert him of his status. He kept his eyes closed and simply fell asleep again. He wouldn't bring it up. D-753 would be embarrassed. No person wants someone who thinks so little of them to think they slept with them because they were _scared_. Rird didn't know what the boy was scared of, but honestly, he didn't bother to care.

Well, of course he cared. He deeply cared. He was worried about the boy, he wanted desperately to ask him what was wrong and comfort him with long, warm hugs and kind words. But, he knew D-753 wasn’t the type to say anything he was feeling, especially not to Rird. He _hated_ Rird, he wouldn’t say anything no matter what he said.

So, he slept as well. It was hard with such an anxious ache in his chest, but he got past it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdhiujsadifldsnsdfoih


End file.
